#Bradshaw's is a railway timetable guide

[drac-kool-aid]

It's been said before, but the imagery of Count Dracula throwing himself onto a sofa after his mad dash to clear the table and light the candles with the first book he could grab is hilarious.

[dimethyloctopus]

[dracula-dictionary]

Dracula Dictionary, May 7th

Hampton Court: a palace in London, built by Henry VIII in 1514

toilet glass: a mirror for a dressing table

London Directory: a list of people in businesses in London with the streets where they can be found

Red and Blue books: financial records for the United Kingdom

Whitaker's Almanac: a reference book about many topics like education, government departments, health and social issues, and the environment

Army and Navy Lists: lists of people who serve in the army or navy, including their names, ranks, and ships they serve on

Law List: a list of names and addresses of people who practice law, also includes information that's useful to lawyers

boyar: a member of the highest rank of the feudal nobility

"without his doors": outside

"I dare be sworn": I would bet

remissness: showing neglect or inattention

Bradshaw's Guide: a series of railway timetables and travel guide books

patronymic: a surname that comes from the given name of the father (here Dracula just means Jonathan's last name)

Quatre Face: French phrase that means "four-sided"

kodak: a pocket camera

gaiety: entertainments or amusements

voluptuousness: the quality of sounding or looking extremely beautiful

gay: happy

battlement: a low wall on top of a fort or castle, that has regularly spaced squared openings for shooting through

casement: a window that is attached by hinges at the side

malignant: evil in nature or effect, malevolent

saturnine: gloomy

preternatural: beyond what is normal or natural

[lolobizarreadventuresshatpost]

If you haven’t read Dracula by Stoker, you might not know the odd importance of trains in the story. Trains and train schedules.

Folks taking trains back and forth. Dracula has been caught studying train schedules, and Mrs. Harker is out there memorizing it regularly as well even when in new places. It also has a pivotal role in a race against time in the end.

What’s the link between Dracula and Jojo? Vampires, man. What else.

Relevant quotes under the cut

“ The lamps were also lit in the study or library, and I found the Count lying on the sofa, reading, of all things in the world, an English Bradshaw’s Guide [a railway timetables and travel guide book]. “ Chapter 2

"You forget--or perhaps you do not know, though Jonathan does and so does Dr. Van Helsing--that I am the train fiend. At home in Exeter I always used to make up the time-tables, so as to be helpful to my husband. I found it so useful sometimes, that I always make a study of the time-tables now. I knew that if anything were to take us to Castle Dracula we should go by Galatz, or at any rate through Bucharest, so I learned the times very carefully. Unhappily there are not many to learn, as the only train to-morrow leaves as I say." Chapter 25

[lauralot89]

Now wait just a minute

I found the Count lying on the sofa, reading, of all things in the world, an English Bradshaw’s Guide.

— Dracula, Bram Stoker

Bradshaw's was a series of railway timetables and travel guide books published by W.J. Adams and later Henry Blacklock, both of London.

— Wikipedia (emphasis mine)

“When does the next train start for Galatz?” said Van Helsing to us generally.

“At 6:30 to-morrow morning!” We all started, for the answer came from Mrs. Harker.

“How on earth do you know?” said Art.

“You forget—or perhaps you do not know, though Jonathan does and so does Dr. Van Helsing—that I am the train fiend. At home in Exeter I always used to make up the time-tables, so as to be helpful to my husband. I found it so useful sometimes, that I always make a study of the time-tables now.”

— Dracula, Bram Stoker

Why in the world do the Dracula adaptations that insist on putting in a Dracula/Mina romance try making them star-crossed lovers across time or whatever when their shared choo choo fascination is right there

[cinaed]

Someone explain to me why I am getting emotional over railway time tables!

But just remembering this scene between Dracula and Jonathan in the castle:

The lamps were also lit in the study or library, and I found the Count lying on the sofa, reading, of all things in the world, an English Bradshaw’s Guide [a railway timetables and travel guide book]. When I came in he cleared the books and papers from the table; and with him I went into plans and deeds and figures of all sorts. He was interested in everything, and asked me a myriad questions about the place and its surroundings. He clearly had studied beforehand all he could get on the subject of the neighbourhood, for he evidently at the end knew very much more than I did. When I remarked this, he answered:—

“Well, but, my friend, is it not needful that I should? When I go there I shall be all alone, and my friend Harker Jonathan—nay, pardon me, I fall into my country’s habit of putting your patronymic first—my friend Jonathan Harker will not be by my side to correct and aid me. He will be in Exeter, miles away, probably working at papers of the law with my other friend, Peter Hawkins. So!”

And then getting walloped today by Mina’s journal entry, in which her love for Jonathan radiates off the page and she turns memorizing railway schedules as a form of affection rather than Dracula’s obvious intent to learn his new hunting grounds.

"Jonathan will be here at half-past eleven, and you must come to lunch with us and see him then; you could catch the quick 3:34 train, which will leave you at Paddington before eight." [Van Helsing] was surprised at my knowledge of the trains off-hand, but he does not know that I have made up all the trains to and from Exeter, so that I may help Jonathan in case he is in a hurry.

I don’t know, I don’t have anything important to say about it! The unexpected parallels just punched me in the heart today.

[aroundtheworldwithphillyfogg]

Fogg and Passepartout leave London

(This is the fourth book post today. First post, second post, third post)

Having won twenty guineas at whist, and taken leave of his friends, Phileas Fogg, at twenty-five minutes past seven, left the Reform Club.

Passepartout, who had conscientiously studied the programme of his duties, was more than surprised to see his master guilty of the inexactness of appearing at this unaccustomed hour; for, according to rule, he was not due in Saville Row until precisely midnight.

Mr. Fogg repaired to his bedroom, and called out, “Passepartout!”

Passepartout did not reply. It could not be he who was called; it was not the right hour.

“Passepartout!” repeated Mr. Fogg, without raising his voice.

Passepartout made his appearance.

“I’ve called you twice,” observed his master.

“But it is not midnight,” responded the other, showing his watch.

“I know it; I don’t blame you. We start for Dover and Calais in ten minutes.”

A puzzled grin overspread Passepartout’s round face; clearly he had not comprehended his master.

“Monsieur is going to leave home?”

“Yes,” returned Phileas Fogg. “We are going round the world.”

Passepartout opened wide his eyes, raised his eyebrows, held up his hands, and seemed about to collapse, so overcome was he with stupefied astonishment.

“Round the world!” he murmured.

“In eighty days,” responded Mr. Fogg. “So we haven’t a moment to lose.”

“But the trunks?” gasped Passepartout, unconsciously swaying his head from right to left.

“We’ll have no trunks; only a carpet-bag, with two shirts and three pairs of stockings for me, and the same for you. We’ll buy our clothes on the way. Bring down my mackintosh and traveling-cloak, and some stout shoes, though we shall do little walking. Make haste!”

Passepartout tried to reply, but could not. He went out, mounted to his own room, fell into a chair, and muttered: “That’s good, that is! And I, who wanted to remain quiet!”

He mechanically set about making the preparations for departure. Around the world in eighty days! Was his master a fool? No. Was this a joke, then? They were going to Dover; good! To Calais; good again! After all, Passepartout, who had been away from France five years, would not be sorry to set foot on his native soil again. Perhaps they would go as far as Paris, and it would do his eyes good to see Paris once more. But surely a gentleman so chary of his steps would stop there; no doubt—but, then, it was none the less true that he was going away, this so domestic person hitherto!

By eight o’clock Passepartout had packed the modest carpet-bag, containing the wardrobes of his master and himself; then, still troubled in mind, he carefully shut the door of his room, and descended to Mr. Fogg.

Mr. Fogg was quite ready. Under his arm might have been observed a red-bound copy of Bradshaw’s Continental Railway Steam Transit and General Guide, with its timetables showing the arrival and departure of steamers and railways. He took the carpet-bag, opened it, and slipped into it a goodly roll of Bank of England notes, which would pass wherever he might go.

“You have forgotten nothing?” asked he.

“Nothing, monsieur.”

“My mackintosh and cloak?”

“Here they are.”

“Good! Take this carpet-bag,” handing it to Passepartout. “Take good care of it, for there are twenty thousand pounds in it.”

Passepartout nearly dropped the bag, as if the twenty thousand pounds were in gold, and weighed him down.

Master and man then descended, the street-door was double-locked, and at the end of Saville Row they took a cab and drove rapidly to Charing Cross. The cab stopped before the railway station at twenty minutes past eight. Passepartout jumped off the box and followed his master, who, after paying the cabman, was about to enter the station, when a poor beggar-woman, with a child in her arms, her naked feet smeared with mud, her head covered with a wretched bonnet, from which hung a tattered feather, and her shoulders shrouded in a ragged shawl, approached, and mournfully asked for alms.

Mr. Fogg took out the twenty guineas he had just won at whist, and handed them to the beggar, saying, “Here, my good woman. I’m glad that I met you;” and passed on.

Passepartout had a moist sensation about the eyes; his master’s action touched his susceptible heart.

Two first-class tickets for Paris having been speedily purchased, Mr. Fogg was crossing the station to the train, when he perceived his five friends of the Reform.

“Well, gentlemen,” said he, “I’m off, you see; and, if you will examine my passport when I get back, you will be able to judge whether I have accomplished the journey agreed upon.”

“Oh, that would be quite unnecessary, Mr. Fogg,” said Ralph politely. “We will trust your word, as a gentleman of honour.”

“You do not forget when you are due in London again?” asked Stuart.

“In eighty days; on Saturday, the 21st of December, 1872, at a quarter before nine p.m. Good-bye, gentlemen.”

Phileas Fogg and his servant seated themselves in a first-class carriage at twenty minutes before nine; five minutes later the whistle screamed, and the train slowly glided out of the station.

The night was dark, and a fine, steady rain was falling. Phileas Fogg, snugly ensconced in his corner, did not open his lips. Passepartout, not yet recovered from his stupefaction, clung mechanically to the carpet-bag, with its enormous treasure.

Just as the train was whirling through Sydenham, Passepartout suddenly uttered a cry of despair.

“What’s the matter?” asked Mr. Fogg.

“Alas! In my hurry—I—I forgot—”

“What?”

“To turn off the gas in my room!”

“Very well, young man,” returned Mr. Fogg, coolly; “it will burn—at your expense.”

[estherdedlock]

Whoops, I need to make a correction to my last post about Clockwork Princess. I said that Will Herondale couldn’t have taken a train all the way to the base of Cadair Idris...that was wrong. He actually could have. 

Below is an old postcard of the town of Dolgellau. That mountain in the back? Yep - Cadair Idris. It even says so, right on the postcard. 

The railway station in Dolgellau was “...the terminus of a Cambrian Railways branch from Barmouth Junction, then linked by the Great Western Railway to Bala and Ruabon. The station spent most of its life with the spelling "Dolgelley" (often pronounced, especially in English, as [dɔlˈɡɛɬi]); this was altered to "Dolgellau" on 12 September 1960. It was opened on 4 August 1868, and closed to passengers on Monday 18 January 1965.” 

Clockwork Princess is set in 1878; by then, the Dolgellau station would have already been open for 10 years. It was accessible via transfer from the Great Western Railway, which was the backbone of the British rail system in the Victorian era. Founded in 1833, the GWR was built specifically to link London with western England and Wales (hence the name, duh). 

So Will wouldn’t have even needed a horse, magical or otherwise. He could’ve taken the train to Dolgellau and literally walked to Cadair Idris -- it’s a distance of only 5.5 miles, walkable in less than three hours. 

I used to have a PDF of a Victorian-era Bradshaw’s Guide timetable. If I could find it, you’d see that there were an astounding number of trains leaving London every day, which makes sense. There were no buses or planes or autos, so trains were the only way to travel or move goods long distances. Will probably would have been able to get on a Wales-bound train leaving London within an hour or so after Tessa was abducted. He would have been at Cadair Idris the next morning, at the latest. Instead he pisses around on a horse for four days and three nights. 

It makes sense for Tessa to be in a stagecoach, because her abductor needed secrecy, which would have been compromised if she’d transported Tessa by train. But Will has no such restriction---speed should be his only consideration. 

I don’t know why I’m geeking out over this but I can’t let it go! If you’re going to write a book set in the past, isn’t it part of the fun to do research into how people actually lived then? I would have felt ridiculous sending my hero off on a horse when he could’ve just bought a train ticket. And if I were Tessa, I would’ve been pretty ticked off when I found out that my knight in shining armor went on a jolly good riding holiday with his pet pony instead of saving me three days sooner.

Now that I think about it, it’s just as stupid that the other Shadowhunters use Henry’s magical portal to get to Cadair Idris. It takes Henry longer to make the portal than it would have taken for all of them to get there by train! And considering that it’s been a running joke in the books that none of Henry’s inventions ever work properly, it makes no sense that something as complex as a teleportation portal would have worked so seamlessly at the first go. More likely, they’d all have wound up atomized, with their last thoughts being, “Why the fuck didn’t we take the train!?!?”

[madame-ellunas-moonlit-readings]

May 7 - Stranger In A Strange Land

Re Dracula/Dracula Daily

I think from now on I will continue to read Dracula Daily as I listen to Re Dracula. This time it was not a line that was skipped, but 3 paragraphs. It's an understandable thing to skip, just very specific details on the house Dracula wishes to purchase. Honestly, I'm glad they skipped it. I'd rather not listen to them prattle on about the houses walls and the streets it lies on. Reading and Listening are two very different experiences, treating them as such was a good choice. But it is good to know what was missed. Especially as I'm new to the story and would rather not accidentally skip something important.

But I'll go into the missed parts when I get to it, for now, the story.

When Jonathon woke up to find a note from Dracula excusing him from dinner, I couldn't help but wonder how many excuses the man has up his sleeves. They can only go on for so long, surely. It is interesting how the author shows things to be suspicious through absence. Whether it be the Count himself, the lack of mirrors or there being no servants at all. I guess that driver was him then.

Jonathon's finally gathered himself to exploring the place too. First his room, which was filled with precious things centuries old but extremely well-maintained. Is Dracula taking good care of his belongings, or are there some practical uses to his magic? Then out of his rooms to locked doors. And of the first unlocked room he finds is a library which immediately captures him. A man after my own heart.

It is curious how many of those books are English and clearly new. Has the Count been visiting the bookstores. There are some that are clearly new(ish) by the titles.

I'll list some of the books down below, including those mentioned later.

London Directory (now known as the white pages), a telephone system was already well established so he access to both their numbers and addresses

Red & Blue Books (government briefings, if modern terms match), so he's getting a feel for the lay of business and authority too

Whitaker's Almanac (facts, figures and statistics relating to the UK and the world), to help him understand the wider and more minute facts of the world he plans to venture into, I would guess

The Army & Navy Lists (lists of army and navy soldiers)

The Law Lists (I'm not sure, maybe the laws?)

Bradshaw's Guide (railway timetables and travel guides), he was actively reading this one

A marked Atlas open to England (an iffily marked marked, not spooky at all)

It's a bit eery, considering the genre of the story. But not as much as what comes up in their following conversations.

Dracula showed up while Jonathon was browsing and was glad to have found him there. He insists that he doesn't know English fully but would like for Jonathon talk with him more so he can learn. He goes far as to request he picks up any mistake, any off intonation, anything mismatched at all. I guess to better blend in and not get caught in his violence. He himself states that,

But a stranger in a strange land, he is no one; men know him not—and to know not is to care not for.

It contrasts well with how Jonathon was treated by Carpathian citizens on his arrival. How hard they work to send him, and failing that, protecting him.

He goes to say that even still he would be a master, or at least master to none. So he definitely isn't looking to live among them when blending in.

At this point Dracula officially allows Jonathon into any unlocked part of the castle (adventure, anyone?) and moves onto the cultural differences. Considering how he directed Jonathon to his questions of his strange experiences thus far, focussing on the treasure marker blue flames, I'd say he's decided to kick the gaslighting into gear. And even in these explanations the Count has focussed on violent histories and speaking lowly of the citizens here.

His character isn't just shown through disdain and violent interests, but also his strong focus on the house and surrounding areas. He questioned Jonathon on various aspects of the house and location fiercely and had gone into his own research as well, startling him at how much more of the place he knew. Dracula says he obviously must as both Jonathon and his boss, Peter Hawkins, would be in Exeter, miles away.

Dracula is good at saying things that aren't odd or are easily excusable. But when added up, 😬. There was no need for the 'I know where you live' comment, really.

Here's where the podcast skips. In between "So!" and "I am glad that it is old and big".

In the missed bits Dracula signed his lease and other necessary legal documents, and Jonathon got them ready for mailing. Dracula asks how him came across a place so suitable, so Jonathon reads out notes on the place he had found. And yeah, it's suitable all right.

"At Purfleet, on a by-road, I came across just such a place as seemed to be required, and where was displayed a dilapidated notice that the place was for sale. It is surrounded by a high wall, of ancient structure, built of heavy stones, and has not been repaired for a large number of years. The closed gates are of heavy old oak and iron, all eaten with rust.

"The estate is called Carfax, no doubt a corruption of the old Quatre Face, as the house is four-sided, agreeing with the cardinal points of the compass. It contains in all some twenty acres, quite surrounded by the solid stone wall above mentioned. There are many trees on it, which make it in places gloomy, and there is a deep, dark-looking pond or small lake, evidently fed by some springs, as the water is clear and flows away in a fair-sized stream. The house is very large and of all periods back, I should say, to mediæval times, for one part is of stone immensely thick, with only a few windows high up and heavily barred with iron. It looks like part of a keep, and is close to an old chapel or church. I could not enter it, as I had not the key of the door leading to it from the house, but I have taken with my kodak views of it from various points. The house has been added to, but in a very straggling way, and I can only guess at the amount of ground it covers, which must be very great. There are but few houses close at hand, one being a very large house only recently added to and formed into a private lunatic asylum. It is not, however, visible from the grounds."

I agree with Dracula. How did he come across a place so well suited to him? I'll leave a link on what a Carfax is down below.

But this is where we get back to the podcast.

Jonathon's observational skills are serving him well. Dracula goes on about how he is old and weary and likes the shadows and time to to myself, but to Jonathon his expression doesn't match at all. To him his smile seemed "malignant and saturnine", meaning malevolent and gloomy. Even worse, when Dracula left and Jonathon piled together his papers, he found an Atlas opened to a map of England. It was marked up with circles at the east side of London, on Exeter (the area where he and his boss lives, very creepy, very ominous) and on Whitby on the Yorkshire Coast.

Seriously, just run.

When Dracula comes back to chat until the rooster crowed, his instincts kicked back into gear as well. I get that you feel "under obligation to meet my host's wishes in every way", but kick that duty or social anxiety out of the way and leave. Even you thought the chill you were feeling was something reminiscent to turning of tides when one meets death. Listen to your instincts and just go already.

At least he was able to rest after after this journal entry. Probably. But we can definitely see the Count testing more and more of his bounds, slowly pushing Jonathon into a corner.

It was another good chapter.

My thanks to Re Dracula and Dracula Daily.

[hellsitesonlybookclub]

Around the world in 80 days, Jules Verne

CHAPTER IV. IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG ASTOUNDS PASSEPARTOUT, HIS SERVANT

Having won twenty guineas at whist, and taken leave of his friends, Phileas Fogg, at twenty-five minutes past seven, left the Reform Club.

Passepartout, who had conscientiously studied the programme of his duties, was more than surprised to see his master guilty of the inexactness of appearing at this unaccustomed hour; for, according to rule, he was not due in Saville Row until precisely midnight.

Mr. Fogg repaired to his bedroom, and called out, “Passepartout!”

Passepartout did not reply. It could not be he who was called; it was not the right hour.

“Passepartout!” repeated Mr. Fogg, without raising his voice.

Passepartout made his appearance.

“I’ve called you twice,” observed his master.

“But it is not midnight,” responded the other, showing his watch.

“I know it; I don’t blame you. We start for Dover and Calais in ten minutes.”

A puzzled grin overspread Passepartout’s round face; clearly he had not comprehended his master.

“Monsieur is going to leave home?”

“Yes,” returned Phileas Fogg. “We are going round the world.”

Passepartout opened wide his eyes, raised his eyebrows, held up his hands, and seemed about to collapse, so overcome was he with stupefied astonishment.

“Round the world!” he murmured.

“In eighty days,” responded Mr. Fogg. “So we haven’t a moment to lose.”

“But the trunks?” gasped Passepartout, unconsciously swaying his head from right to left.

“We’ll have no trunks; only a carpet-bag, with two shirts and three pairs of stockings for me, and the same for you. We’ll buy our clothes on the way. Bring down my mackintosh and traveling-cloak, and some stout shoes, though we shall do little walking. Make haste!”

Passepartout tried to reply, but could not. He went out, mounted to his own room, fell into a chair, and muttered: “That’s good, that is! And I, who wanted to remain quiet!”

He mechanically set about making the preparations for departure. Around the world in eighty days! Was his master a fool? No. Was this a joke, then? They were going to Dover; good! To Calais; good again! After all, Passepartout, who had been away from France five years, would not be sorry to set foot on his native soil again. Perhaps they would go as far as Paris, and it would do his eyes good to see Paris once more. But surely a gentleman so chary of his steps would stop there; no doubt—but, then, it was none the less true that he was going away, this so domestic person hitherto!

By eight o’clock Passepartout had packed the modest carpet-bag, containing the wardrobes of his master and himself; then, still troubled in mind, he carefully shut the door of his room, and descended to Mr. Fogg.

Mr. Fogg was quite ready. Under his arm might have been observed a red-bound copy of Bradshaw’s Continental Railway Steam Transit and General Guide, with its timetables showing the arrival and departure of steamers and railways. He took the carpet-bag, opened it, and slipped into it a goodly roll of Bank of England notes, which would pass wherever he might go.

“You have forgotten nothing?” asked he.

“Nothing, monsieur.”

“My mackintosh and cloak?”

“Here they are.”

“Good! Take this carpet-bag,” handing it to Passepartout. “Take good care of it, for there are twenty thousand pounds in it.”

Passepartout nearly dropped the bag, as if the twenty thousand pounds were in gold, and weighed him down.

Master and man then descended, the street-door was double-locked, and at the end of Saville Row they took a cab and drove rapidly to Charing Cross. The cab stopped before the railway station at twenty minutes past eight. Passepartout jumped off the box and followed his master, who, after paying the cabman, was about to enter the station, when a poor beggar-woman, with a child in her arms, her naked feet smeared with mud, her head covered with a wretched bonnet, from which hung a tattered feather, and her shoulders shrouded in a ragged shawl, approached, and mournfully asked for alms.

Mr. Fogg took out the twenty guineas he had just won at whist, and handed them to the beggar, saying, “Here, my good woman. I’m glad that I met you;” and passed on.

Passepartout had a moist sensation about the eyes; his master’s action touched his susceptible heart.

Two first-class tickets for Paris having been speedily purchased, Mr. Fogg was crossing the station to the train, when he perceived his five friends of the Reform.

“Well, gentlemen,” said he, “I’m off, you see; and, if you will examine my passport when I get back, you will be able to judge whether I have accomplished the journey agreed upon.”

“Oh, that would be quite unnecessary, Mr. Fogg,” said Ralph politely. “We will trust your word, as a gentleman of honour.”

“You do not forget when you are due in London again?” asked Stuart.

“In eighty days; on Saturday, the 21st of December, 1872, at a quarter before nine p.m. Good-bye, gentlemen.”

Phileas Fogg and his servant seated themselves in a first-class carriage at twenty minutes before nine; five minutes later the whistle screamed, and the train slowly glided out of the station.

The night was dark, and a fine, steady rain was falling. Phileas Fogg, snugly ensconced in his corner, did not open his lips. Passepartout, not yet recovered from his stupefaction, clung mechanically to the carpet-bag, with its enormous treasure.

Just as the train was whirling through Sydenham, Passepartout suddenly uttered a cry of despair.

“What’s the matter?” asked Mr. Fogg.

“Alas! In my hurry—I—I forgot—”

“What?”

“To turn off the gas in my room!”

“Very well, young man,” returned Mr. Fogg, coolly; “it will burn—at your expense.”

[the-grey-hunt]

New day, new Dracula, new historical context!

Hampton’s Court was a royal residence in London built in the 16th century and occupied by a string of kings and queens starting with Henry VIII and ending with George II. During Queen Victoria’s reign, it was refurbished, and open to the public for tours starting around 1849.

Assuming Jonathan is a contemporary of the era Dracula was published in - the 1890s - he could easily have visited (which reminds me of a mistake I made last post- since it’s the 90s, Dracula is Edwardian, not Victorian, though Queen Victoria wouldn’t die til 1901. But the fashion period is Edwardian. Adjust ur canary accordingly)

The “servants bell” Jonathan looks for and misses would be a bell in a fancy rope that would ring a connected bell in the downstairs servants’ quarters, alerting staff that someone in his room needed assistance. It’s VERY strange that there isn’t one, given Jonathan’s observations of Dracula’s visible wealth (tapestries, castle). In this era a house like this could only be maintained properly by a full staff. Even though Drac is the only resident, there would still be a cook, butler, housekeeper, footman, driver, and several maids-of-all-work. Their absence is conspicuous, except to Jonathan, who as an upper class Englishman automatically disregards the presence or absence of servants.

The “red” and “blue” books mentioned are diplomatic anthologies. England’s famous Blue Book, dating to the 17th century, is a compilation of diplomatic correspondence and seems to have been annually or semi-annually published, allowing readers some transparency of government. The red book specifically I couldn’t find in my lunch break, but I suspect a similar premise.

Bradshaw’s Guide, as others have posted abt, is a combination railway timetable and travel guide, first produced in the 1830s. Dracula seems to be very thorough in studying English ways…

The mention of the ‘patronymic’ is a reference to Jonathan’s surname. A patronymic strictly speaking references a name as in the Icelandic style, with “son” or “daughter” appended to the father’s first name, but as England does hand down last names patrilineally, through the father, I think this is probably still correct usage. I have no idea if it’s true that Transylvanians/Romanians put the surname first.

[jabbage]

For any Dracula Daily pals wondering what a Bradshaw is and why our good friend -D is reading one, it was a guide to the railways in Britain which gives descriptions of the places along different train lines and what things there are to see and do, hotels to stay at, and where you can find banks/telegraph offices. Perfect for any tourist!

There was a time when 'Bradshaw' was as synonymous with railway timetables as 'hoover' is now to vacuum cleaner.

Here is a picture of my (reproduction) Bradshaw!

[unhallowedarts]

The lamps were also lit in the study or library, and I found the Count lying on the sofa, reading, of all things in the world, an English Bradshaw's Guide. 

PLEASE I’m begging somebody draw the Count like one of your French girls reading a railway timetable like it’s a fucking novel.

[robinmizoguchi]

i’m yelling yes it’s kinda weird of Dracula to be reading the bradshaw’s but you’re all approaching it wrong!! it’s not just the train timetables ffs, george bradshaw’s guides also included interesting facts about each little town the railway stopped in, like where to stay and pieces of historical interest, and this was before all the beecher cuts in the 60s getting rid of a lot of these little stations!! dracula is reading the 1890s timeout or lonely planet equivalent and getting a little bit of an idea of what’s there!! yes it’s slightly odd but imo still within the bounds of making sense if not respectability,,, when you move to a different country you make a point to learn the culture right?!!

[sowelimaxima]

Bradshaw's Guide is literally a book of train timetables. count dracula is lying on his fancy leather sofa in his gothic library reading about the 11:23 semi-fast Great Western Railway train from tiverton to bristol like this is a perfectly normal activity. autistic icon

[luimnigh]

Okay, I get why everyone is focusing on Bradshaw's Guides containing railway timetables, because the idea of Dracula casually reading railway timetables is inherently funny.

But they're really travel guides, telling you about all the interesting places to go on the railways of Europe and the British Empire.

I only know this because there's a British TV show where a former British politician travels around countries in trains, following Bradshaw's Guide.